To Alaska for Gold; Or, The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER III.

  A FALSE IDENTIFICATION.

  "Gone!"

  That was the single word which dropped from Earl's lips as he stood atthe window of the telegraph office at Spruceville and hunted for themissing letter from his Uncle Foster. He cared nothing for themessage,--that could easily be rewritten,--but the letter was highlyimportant.

  Not finding it about his person, he commenced to retrace his steps withhis eyes on the ground. An hour was spent in this manner, and then hereturned slowly to the office.

  "I want to send a message to San Francisco, and I had a letter with meto show that it was all right," he explained. "Will you send the messageanyhow and collect at the other end? The man who is to receive themessage wanted it sent that way."

  The telegraph operator mused for a moment. Then he asked Earl who he wasand where he lived, and finally said he guessed it would be all right.The message was again written out, and ten minutes later it was on itslong journey westward, by way of Boston. The business finished, Earlthanked the operator and started on his return home.

  He was very much out of sorts with himself, and wondered what hisyounger brother would think of him. "I needn't find fault with Randy forbeing careless after this," he sighed, almost bitterly. "I'm as bad ashe is, and worse. One thing is a comfort, though: I remember the name ofthat Boston firm that is to provide us with our money--Bartwell & Stone.I had better make a note of that." And he did.

  The evening shadows were beginning to fall when Basco was again reached.On the main street of the little town Earl halted to think matters over.Why wouldn't it be a good thing to let folks know that they wanted tosell out their household goods and their tools and other things? He madehis way to the general store.

  "Well, Portney, I heard you had been put off your place," was thegreeting received from the general storekeeper.

  "We have not been put off--we are going to leave it, Mr. Andrews."

  "Oh! Where are you going?"

  "To Alaska."

  "Alaska? You must be joking."

  "No, sir. My uncle, Foster Portney, has sent for Randy and me to come toSan Francisco, and the three of us are going to some new gold fields."

  "Well, what about my bill?" asked the storekeeper, anxiously. He wasinterested in but little outside of his business. "Of course that hasgot to be settled before you leave."

  "We will pay up, never fear. But we want to sell off all our stufffirst. Will you let me write out a notice to that effect and post itoutside?"

  "Yes, you can do that. Going to sell off, eh? What have you got?"

  Earl enumerated the various articles he and Randy had listed to sell.They were not of great value, and the storekeeper smiled grimly.

  "They won't bring much."

  "They ought to bring thirty or forty dollars."

  "You'll be lucky to get ten."

  "Ten dollars won't see us through. We have got to get enough to pay ourbills and secure our passage down to Boston."

  "And how much will that be?" questioned Peleg Andrews, cautiously. Earlmade a rapid calculation. With the money already on hand and that owingfor tools and groceries, twenty-five dollars ought to see them through.

  "We must have thirty dollars for the stuff."

  Peleg Andrews said no more, but turned away to wait on a customer thathad just come in. Procuring sheets of paper, Earl set to work and pennedtwo notices, both alike, stating that the goods and chattels of thePortney brothers would be sold within the next three days, to thehighest bidders, and a list of the articles followed. One of the noticeswas tacked up in front of the store and the other in front of the hotel,and then Earl returned home.

  As the big brother had expected, Randy was much put out about the lossof the letter, but he was glad that Earl had gone ahead, nevertheless,and before he retired that night, he brought forth some of the articlesto be sold, and mended and cleaned them up.

  The two were eating breakfast when the first prospective buyer rode upin a farm wagon. It was a lumberman from over the ridge behind Basco,who was thinking of settling down to cabin life by himself. He made anoffer of fifteen dollars for everything in sight, but Earl held out forforty dollars.

  The man was about to drive away, when a second lumberman drove up,followed by Peleg Andrews in his store wagon. Both of the newcomers wereeager to buy, although they affected indifference. Bidding became ratherlively, and at last the goods were split up between the first comer andthe storekeeper, the former paying thirty dollars and the latter twentydollars for what they got. This made fifty dollars in all, and out ofthis amount Earl settled with Peleg Andrews on the spot.

  It was while the men were loading the goods preparatory to taking themaway, that Caleb Norcross appeared. He had expected to make a cheappurchase, and was keenly disappointed to find he was too late.

  "Getting out, eh?" he ventured.

  "Yes," answered Earl, briefly. "You can have your keys in a couple ofhours. Here is your money."

  "I ain't in any hurry," grumbled the landlord.

  "Isn't Dan Roland going to take the property?" asked Randy, curiously.

  "No, he backed out last night," answered Caleb Norcross, and to avoidbeing questioned further he moved away.

  Fortunately for the two boys, there was an old trunk in the cabin, andalso a small wooden box which could be made to hold clothing, and thesethey packed with such effects as they intended to take along. A bargainwas struck with the man who had failed to purchase any of the othergoods, and the two boxes were placed in his wagon, and then the ladswere ready to leave the spot which had been their home for many years.

  "Well, I'm sure I wish you success," said Peleg Andrews, as he shookeach by the hand. "But it looks foolhardy to me--going away off toAlaska."

  "You'll be glad enough to come back home, see if you don't," put inCaleb Norcross. He did not offer to shake hands, at which the boys werejust as well satisfied. In a minute more the brothers were up beside thelumberman on the wagon seat, the whip cracked, and the horse started;and the long trip to Alaska could be said to have fairly begun.

  A stop was made at Basco, where Earl settled up such bills as stillremained unpaid, and then the horse set off on a trot for Spruceville,which was reached less than three-quarters of an hour later. At thelatter place a way train for Bangor was due, and they had barely time toprocure tickets and get their baggage checked before it came along andtook them on board.

  "We've made a flying start and no mistake," was Randy's comment, as heleaned back in the cushioned seat. "Two days ago we never dreamed ofgoing to Alaska or anywhere else."

  "I hope we haven't any cause to regret our hasty action," answered Earl,gravely. Then he immediately brightened up. "But we've started now, solet us make the most of it."

  The ride over the rough roads had made them hungry, but they had to waituntil Bangor was reached before they could obtain anything to eat. Itwas late in the evening when the train rolled into the station and theyalighted. Both boys had been in Bangor several times, so they did notfeel quite like strangers. Having obtained supper at a restaurant, theymade their way to the river docks and asked concerning the boat forBoston, having decided to make that trip by water. The boat was in, andhaving procured their passage, they were privileged to go on board andsleep there over-night.

  The trip to Boston was an uneventful one, although full of novelty toEarl and Randy, who had never taken such a voyage before. They mighthave enjoyed it still more had they not been so anxious concerning whatwas before them. Alas! little did they dream of all the grave perils thefuture held in store.

  "We don't want to look too green," said Earl, when the steamboat wastying up at her wharf and the passengers were preparing to go ashore.

  "Oh, I guess we'll pass in a crowd," said Randy, laughing. "All we wantto look out for is that we are not robbed, or something like that."

  Leaving their baggage on check, the two boys started from Foster's wharfup into the city. They had no idea where the firm of Bartwell & Stonewere
located, but Earl was certain they could easily be found byconsulting a directory.

  The elder brother was on the point of entering a large store in quest ofthe book mentioned when Randy pulled his arm and pointed down thestreet. "There goes a fire engine, Earl!" he cried. "Let's follow it. Ishould like to see how they manage a fire in a city."

  Earl was willing, and away they went, easily keeping up with the engine,which had to proceed slowly through the crowded thoroughfare. The firewas in a paint and oil works, and burnt fiercely for over an hourbefore it was gotten under control. The boys lingered around, watchingthe movements of the firemen with keen interest, and it was two hourslater before Earl caught Randy by the shoulder and hauled him out of themob of people.

  "Remember, we're bound for Alaska," he said. "We can't afford to stop atevery sight on the way."

  A few blocks further on a directory was found in a drug store and theaddress of Bartwell & Stone jotted down. They lost no further time inhunting up the firm of bankers and brokers, who occupied the groundfloor of a substantial business structure.

  "I am Earl Portney," explained Earl, to the clerk who asked them whatthey wanted. "This is my brother Randolph. Our uncle, Foster Portney,said he would send on some money for us from San Francisco. Has itarrived yet?"

  "I'll see. Was it a telegraph order?"

  "I suppose so."

  The clerk disappeared into an inner apartment, to be gone severalminutes. When he came out he was accompanied by a tall, sharp-eyed manin rusty black.

  "These are not the young men who called for the money," said the man inrusty black. "There must be some mistake here."

  "Were the other men identified, Mr. Stone?" questioned the clerk, whileboth Randy and Earl pricked up their ears.

  "Oh, yes; a clerk from Johnston's restaurant identified them as Earl andRandolph Portney. Besides, they held the original letter which had beensent by their uncle, Foster Portney, from San Francisco."